When the news broke Saturday morning, it had the slimmest of details. Shooting at the Chiefs facility in Kansas City, Mo. More to come. That was it.

Who knew how wide the ripples of pain, loss and horror would spread?

We knew more as Saturday wore on, and even that was a fraction of what will emerge in the days, weeks and months to come. Two young lives are lost — 25-year-old Chiefs linebacker Jovan Belcher, who killed himself in the facility parking lot; and Kasandra Perkins, the 22-year-old mother of his child described as his "off and on" girlfriend.

Here is the wreckage they left behind: the couple's infant daughter. Belcher's mother, who was visiting from New York where he grew up, and who police say witnessed the shooting. Chiefs coach Romeo Crennel and general manager Scott Pioli, who met Belcher in the facility parking lot and tried to talk him down, and in front of whom Belcher then turned a gun on himself.

Expand that to the families and friends of Belcher and Perkins, and to the Chiefs players and other employees, all only a degree or two removed from a horrific act that will scar them forever.

It feels like an infinite number of lives directly impacted by the decision of one person. And for now, no one knows how or why he came to that decision. All anyone knows is that he did.

If Belcher were not an NFL player, the entire country likely would never have heard about it, much less many people in Kansas City. Being an NFL player adds layers of speculation, which leads to mountains of questions and adds to the uncertainty.

Did spending much of his brief life playing football lead to this? Belcher is the second NFL player to commit suicide this year, after Tennessee Titans wide receiver O.J. Murdock in July. Murdock also was 25.

Suicide, and the ever-strengthening link to head trauma, has been a raging topic the past few years. Players of all ages, in high school and college and after their pro careers are over, have taken their own lives, and many have later been diagnosed with football-related brain injuries.

But this is not about suicide alone; Belcher took another life with him. That is almost-uncharted territory, at least in the NFL and among pro athletes. It transcends convenient explanation, theory and anecdotal evidence.

Those on the periphery of Belcher's life now search for clues that this was a possibility. That only reminded everybody that being on the outside tells us nothing. What signs would anybody pick up that someone was capable of this, from a few minutes here and there in the locker room, the team plane, a charity function or an interview session?

Meanwhile, did those who were closest to him miss anything? Not just in recent days or weeks, but ever, at any time, going back to when he first began playing football? That won't surface until later.

As it does, those people will beat themselves up wondering what they could have done to stop any of it, anything that could have saved those two lives, allowed their baby girl to grow up with her parents, and spared the families and loved ones the nightmares they're sentenced to from now on.

Forget rational reasoning. This is beyond comprehension.

It also dwarfs the very sport that thrust Belcher and Perkins onto the national stage for the worst of reasons. The Chiefs said they will play their home game against the Carolina Panthers as scheduled on Sunday afternoon.

From a distance, it's hard to imagine anyone involved in the game, including the Panthers, being fully committed to playing a normal game several hundred yards from a crime scene involving an NFL players. Can you watch that game and get worked up about who's winning or losing or who's piling up fantasy points?

If you know or care about Perkins, or her orphaned daughter, will seeing that game take place in front of a sold-out crowd and a regional television audience help or hurt you?

Football seems very small and insignificant at a time like this. At the same time, the world feels very small and enormously significant.

The lives of two young people you might never have heard of before Saturday morning, ended violently and senselessly. That changed the lives of a circle of people that keeps getting wider — and before long, that circle will include you, too.